


Reindeer Games

by ozomin



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas fic, Gen, Library employees, M/M, secret santa prompt fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8970970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozomin/pseuds/ozomin
Summary: It's the annual Christmas party at the library and all Angelo wants to do is drink and go home but Nero appears to have other plans.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For my ever lovely secret santa whoever you are <333  
> I hope you enjoy it

Angelo snorts through his nose, they're not getting any yellow streamers if he has anything to do with it. Which coincidentally, he does. The one silver lining in this less than dismal week.

After feelings hints of a cold from his roommate Corteo on Monday and having it hit him full force on Tuesday, he suffered halfway through Wednesday before Cerotto forced him to go home after he fell asleep on his desk and sneezed right in Vanno's face after breathing in some book dust. He found himself bedridden on Thursday and by then what was even the point of going to work on Friday?

Sure Nero wouldn't be happy with him come Monday, but Nero's appears to have a soft spot for him, a soft spot Angelo plans to exploit at every possible opportunity, so he doesn't expect any severe repercussions.

Oh but Nero also has a habit of pushing him into situations he could have gotten out of if he'd had a say in it.

Which he didn't.

Which is why he's in the middle of a party focused chain store, fingers puckering the thin plastic packaging of silver tinsel streamers while he disdainfully eyes the yellow ones that remain untouched on the rack.

He looks to his left, Tronco's leaning the weight of each foot on the bottom rack of cart. It shifts forward once after he pushes too hard and almost slips.

Angelo rolls his eyes.

They've been assigned party planning duty for their annual employee christmas party at the Vanetti Memorial Library. Angelo had read once that the library was established by an apparently scholarly mafia head back in the 1920's. Nero's neither confirmed or refuted the advents of his great grandfather, enough so, Angelo's stopped asking. Tronco's merely a page, or book arranger, a lower rung of the hierarchy sent to do it because it's practically grunt work.

Angelo, a homely library assistant, was put forth simply because he wasn't there to push it onto someone else.

"Angelo," Tronco pitches forward with enough suddenness that Angelo jumps, "What about these?" he points with gloveless fingers to a particularly gaudy pair of santa ornaments.

Angelo shrugs without answering and throws the tinsel into the cart.

The company car isn't the nicest, an out of date white van, with barely enough willpower to get them at the speed of traffic down the freeway. But it does its job well enough, Angelo doesn't care after that.

Tronco's pressing down at the gas with perhaps more force than he would in a more modern car and it's causing the engine to roar with a more sickly tone than anything else. Angelo sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed. After a particularly dreadful almost collision with a stop sign, Tronco was assigned driving duty when they went on runs.

The inside of the car smells like a mix of old gasoline and "new" car smell. Angelo crinkles his nose and rolls his window down.

"Santa's Reindeer huh?" Tronco refers to the theme Angelo blurted out after he was forced to choose. He's also referring to the silver wire spun reindeer figurine they have in the back. The supposed "focal point" of the party.

"What of it?" Angelo purses his lips and Tronco shrugs.

"Nothing really. It's cool I guess."

Angelo rolls his eyes and the rest of the ride passes in silence.

The Vanetti Memorial Library is two floors and 2500 square feet of laid brick and antique lighting fixtures, the stiff metal looks even more ancient next to the glean of the brushed metal strobe bulbs the librarians had put up that morning before opening.

Lacrima, the first, had bribed Fango, the second, into putting them up for her in exchange of dealing with the direct deal publishers he'd always ended up shouting at through the phone.

Cerotto helps Angelo do mostly clerical work at the front desk when they're not helping patrons.

Today, a springy crisp late December day, is somber and quiet like every work day. The click of computer keys for both employees and patrons searching the database for the current status of a book that interests them breaks the easy monotony of sitting behind a desk and shuffling novels back onto their respective shelves.

Before they know it, it's four-thirty and perusers are beginning to file out, checked out books in their hands and new knowledge in their heads.

Lacrima smiles gently and thanks the last customer with an easy bow of her head and a "Thank you, we look forward to your continual patronage," before she closes the door behind them. The operational hours are stated clearly on a neatly printed sign out front so there should be no interruptions.

Lacrima as well as a few others, excuse themselves to the employee back room to collect their things, they plan to go home to prepare and come back in an hour or two before the festivities begin.

But Angelo? Angelo's been assigned party planning duty and as a result must stay behind to clean up and put up decorations for everyone else.

So Angelo watches them all wander out in ones and twos until it's just Cerotto, Vanno, and him.

Decorating and set up goes about as smooth as it can. Vanno, the tallest of the three is resigned to pinning the tinsel up around door frames and windows with tape and push pins while Angelo neatens up the mid sized Christmas tree Nero, the manager, had purchased for the office.

He stares down those two gaudy Santas Tronco must have thrown in the cart when he wasn't looking and purses his lips. They dangle from the sides like blush glossy eyes.

Cerotto fiddles with the karaoke system, attaches cords to the television usually used for documentaries during operation hours and sets out song booklets and microphones on the small table in front.

At long last, the edges of bookshelves are edged with shiny silver tinsel and blinking Christmas lights. Electric blue bulbs line the television and circle the strobes paired against the established lights in the wood paneled ceiling above.

Behind the drawn together half circle of cushioned lounge chairs and love seats from against the walls are fold out tables covered in a plastic table cloth patterned with snowflakes and snowmen. These tables are those which Angelo is most proud. Even when the food table boasts the wire reindeer figurine.

Mostly the alcohol designated one.

It's a smaller circular one he'd acquired from one of the study rooms upstairs, wooden and sturdy.

Perfect for carrying beer and other alcoholic beverages.

Not to mention the cushioned fold out chair Angelo's pushed in as if they came as a set.

Lastly are the name tags, Christmas themed and peel-able with adhesive backing. He'd written the names himself with the help of a handful of festive colored gel pens.

Their reindeer names.The only retaliation Angelo was able to take even a semblance of pride in was getting to assign them each which reindeer they would get to be.

Angelo passes out the respective pieces to their respective owners. Mainly Cerotto (who accepts Donder with no fight) and Vanno (Dancer, with some fight) as they're the only ones there with him currently.

Angelo pats the one labeled Comet on the lapel of his cardigan and sets about double checking the decorations for potential falls.

One almost fall from Vanno off the small step ladder later, the other employees begin trickling in.

Lacrima's nametag, bordered in a classy gold shines brightly front and center on her right breast, the name "Vixen" rightfully hers and rightfully bribed out of Angelo in exchange for the addition of booze that isn't 2 for 12 at the supermarket.

She does not disappoint as she places the two bags of moderately expensive wine and spirits onto the table. Fango appears two minutes later, a baking pan of some kind of buttery pastry sprinkled with red edible glitter. He takes the name Prancer with as much grace as Fango is capable. Barbero, a part time librarian takes Blitzen with a blank expression and immediately reaches for a can of beer, one of Angelo's cheap ones.

It takes only twenty minutes for karaoke to commence fully.

It takes only twenty minutes for over half of them to drink enough to be buzzed enough to attempt it.

"Then who's Santa?" Tronco's already giggling and when Vanno pitches in a wild, "...Vincent?" He outright doubles over, bumping the table and shaking the cups up top it.

Angelo tries not to roll his eyes instead focusing on the comical if not hilarious off key stylings of Fango who's shouting more than singing the lyrics of This Christmas.

The main lights have been turned off in favor of the Christmas lights that cast the room in a dim that's broken up by the flickering of the strobes that are half blinding him and half leaving him with barely enough to see if his cup is even empty; but it's enough to acknowledge the sudden addition of the larger body slumped next to him.

Nero. Angelo can tell instantly by the beer smell and the mess of dirty blonde hair. On the breast of his long sleeve shirt is the name tag "Cupid" in glossy red glitter.

He eyes Angelo's own name tag, they hover around his sternum likes he's trying to focus before he lets out a small laugh.

"Comet? One of Santa's lesser known reindeer eh?"

"Not everyone can be Rudolph," Angelo purses his lips, snorts into his bottle of beer before taking a sip.

He'd chosen "Cupid" for Nero both out of pity and in perhaps embarrassment. It functioned as a dig at Nero's sex drive and his uncomfortable willingness to mention it with utmost casualness.

His flirtatious nature was more often a menace than a distraction.

Not that Angelo would ever mention the latter to him.

In fact, Ronaldo, their in and out financial advisor was given the role of Rudolph simply so the headache of choosing someone for the titular role could be avoided. Unfortunately he couldn't attend, firstly due to previous family engagements and secondly, he can barely stand Fango as it is.

Nero seems to nod in agreement, "I guess, it would be obvious that you're picking favorites Mr. Party Planner." He chuckles before taking a long pull from his own beer bottle.

Angelo's only slightly drunk, enough to realize that his choice for Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer may have been misunderstood considering Ronaldo's hair and Ronaldo's nose.

But what's past is past.

Angelo giggles for good measure even. Even that doesn't come off as unusual to Nero who finds it hard to make Angelo laugh on the barest of days.

"Call me Mr. Party Planner then," with that Angelo raises his bottle as a toast. Nero finds himself doing the same with little to no thought. "The only one who didn't know it was me was me."

Nero laughs, loud and booming, it breaks against the beat of trembling tambourines in some remixed Christmas track coming through the speakers.

"You're pretty funny y'know," Nero burps, "when you're not trying I mean."

Angelo's face shifts to neutral. Since when has he been trying in the first place?

Angelo snorts and decides not to grace that comment with a reply.

Nero shifts forward, not deterred in the least, "I'm not joking--" he tilts his head, "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better though," Nero slurs through and something drops in Angelo's gut.

Perhaps it wouldn't have affected Angelo had he taken the time to drink more, but unfortunately that didn't happen and now he's conscious enough to contemplate acting like he never heard it in the first place.

Before Angelo can even make for a special type of rejection, Nero has sauntered off, his almost empty bottle left next to Angelo's and a new one in his hands.

Angelo spends the next fifteen minutes in his cushioned fold out chair, sipping wine and feeling moderately dampened in the mood department. Nero couldn't have actually meant that come on line. He's manager he has better things to do, other people's pants to get into much less get tangled in Angelo's, frequently labeled 'dated', pair of suspenders.

At some point between Tronco's and Cerotto's improvised duet of All I Want For Christmas and Barbero's moody interpretation of Jingle Bells, Angelo decides he needs some air.

The air outside is crisp and wakes up his eyes immediately. Angelo leans against the railing and as if out of habit, digs out the cigarettes and lighter he'd always kept in his pocket. Relieved to find them, even if he is planning to quit, Angelo taps his foot as he lights it. He takes a few slow pulls, lets the smoke fill him and warm his chilled lips.

Angelo quickly loses track of time, occupies himself with the grey smoke curling in front of him and the shifts in the lights inside as they change on a timer.

He's too busy watching but not counting the cars that pass by on the road out past the parking lot to notice the large body nestle beside him once more, shoulder to shoulder.

Angelo almost jumps, but the calming aspect of the cigarettes prevents him from getting too excited about it.

Nero huffs through his nose.

"Lacrima's beginning to do shots every time someone says Christmas, in song and in conversation." His shoulders bob as he laughs.

Angelo bristles next to him. How can he be so casual after what he said?

"Maybe I wanted to be alone." Angelo says outright, puffs onto his cigarette. It's Nero's turn to stiffen next to him.

Nero pulls out a cigarette, "You mind?" his expression is cool, barely sufficient to cover the attitude in his brow.

Grumbling all the while, Angelo pulls out the lighter and holds it up for him, if not a little low for the sake of making him bow just that little bit, enough to be satisfying on a near visceral level.

"You should mind more often," Angelo says pocketing the lighter, eyes on the road once more.

Nero narrows his eyes, "Angelo, you should join us inside. Fango's aching for a duet."

"He'll slap my ass again," Angelo purses his lips, "I'd rather avoid it all together. On the other hand, don't you have others to hit on tonight?"

Nero frowns, "I haven't come onto anyone have I?"

"Nope. Not at all." Angelo doesn't hide the sarcasm but he'll let Nero take it how he wants. Perhaps, it will relieve Angelo of the burden if he doesn't even remember it happening.

So Nero shrugs, "I'd remember doing something like that wouldn't I?"

Angelo's simultaneously about to retch out of mortification and disappointment.

Maybe now isn't the time.

Nero does however, kiss him on the cheek during the New Years party.


End file.
